Stranded With Her Ex (11 page)

“Wait,” she said, bracing her palms against his chest. She turned her head to the side, trying to catch her breath. The cold splash of reality had brought to mind several reasons why making out on this beach was a bad idea. While they were reenacting
From Here to Eternity,
that territorial bull could come back. “There was an elephant seal.”

“What?”

“There was a bull here a few minutes ago. He was kind of, uh…grumpy.”

“What!” He scrambled to his feet, his eyes on the shoreline. “Are you
insane?
”

She got up, brushing sand from her clothes. Now she would get a dressing-down, and not the kind she’d been looking forward to.

“You climbed down to an unprotected beach to hang out with a Northern elephant seal? He could have trampled you and the pup!”

Letting out a frustrated breath, she picked up her jacket and her tote bag and started toward the cliffs. Predictably, she had trouble climbing the steep, slippery rocks, which gave Sean another reason to be angry.

“What if you’d been injured?” he asked, boosting her up. “What would you have done when the tide came in?”

“Been swept away, I guess.”

His hand lingered on her fanny. “Didn’t you learn your lesson about wild animals the last time one bit you in the ass?”

“Apparently not.”

Ascending the cliffs required a certain amount of effort and concentration, so Sean stopped scolding in favor of helping her navigate the climb. They’d traversed terrain like this on countless occasions, so he knew her skill level. If he put his hands on her more than was strictly necessary, it was only because she hadn’t hiked in a while.

By the time they reached the sea lion blind, they were both breathing hard. Her cheeks were suffused with heat and a fine sheen of perspiration coated her skin. Pretending her response was due to exertion, not arousal, she hazarded another glance at him. “How did you know I was on the beach?”

“I followed the birds.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t have gone down there alone. You’re right. It was…unsafe.”

He massaged his forehead, a gesture she knew he used when he was trying to focus. “I don’t like to see you take unnecessary risks.”

“You tag sharks for a living,” she felt compelled to mention.

“I think you should go back to San Diego.”

Her temper bubbled up, hot and bright. He thought she should leave because of what happened
after
the elephant seal encounter, not before. “Why don’t you want me here?” she asked, getting closer to him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

His gaze dragged along the inner curves of her breasts, as tangible as a caress. “You know damned well you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Maybe you should do something about it.”

An emotion she couldn’t identify crossed over his features. She’d never been this suggestive, but she’d never had to be. In their relationship, he’d made all the first moves. “No,” he said in a cold voice, cutting her dead.

Her mouth dropped open. She could feel heat coming off him in waves, but instead of kissing her senseless, he was turning her down. “Why?”

He looked away, refusing to answer.

“Why?” she repeated, her stomach churning with dread.

“Because you broke my
heart,
” he bit out, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Dani, why do you think? Being near you hurts like hell. Touching you makes me lose my mind. I can’t even look at you without dying inside.”

Daniela stared at him in wonder, feeling her chest tighten and her throat close up. She felt exactly the same way he did. “You broke my heart, too,” she whispered, hugging her arms around herself. “You’re the one who filed for divorce.”

He studied her for a long moment, his mouth grim. “I said I would, the day you told me to leave. Remember?”

She nodded, feeling miserable.

“Why did you sign the divorce papers?” he asked.

“I—I thought you wanted to get on with your life.”

“I did. I still do.”

Tears of despair flooded her eyes. Of course he did. She was too difficult, too fractured, too complicated.

It was too hard to be with her, so he’d given up and moved on.

She was too late.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She gave him a brittle smile. “I’m sorry, too.”

Turning away from him, she shrugged into her jacket and walked out the door, brushing the tears from her eyes.

She wasn’t sure why she was so disappointed, or what she’d expected. And she couldn’t bear to analyze her wanton behavior. If she wanted a sexual fling, she could approach Jason, or any other man. With Sean, there would always be strings attached.

Besides, she hadn’t come here to reconcile an impossibly damaged relationship. The two of them could become friends and colleagues again, not partners.

Not lovers.

Her emotional breakdown had killed their marriage. She’d driven him away, and never made one single attempt at reconciliation. She couldn’t give him what he needed—a happy family—and he didn’t deserve anything less.

Taking a deep breath, Daniela looked up at the bleak, bright sky, wishing things had played out differently.

Sometimes, life’s cards were too hard to hold.

Chapter 11

S
ean wanted to kick himself.

On the way to the house, he stared at the back of Daniela’s head, trying to ignore the assault on his senses and the ache in his groin. His hands were shaking with need, so he shoved them into his pockets, wishing he didn’t remember all the ways he’d touched her over the course of their marriage. God, he’d been a sex maniac. Even while she was pregnant, he was constantly at her. Had he been too demanding? Too rough, too insatiable?

He stifled a groan, cursing himself in silence. The long stint of abstinence had almost shattered his self-control. On Dead Man’s Beach, he’d fallen on her like a raving lunatic. In the sea lion blind, he’d wanted to take her to the floor, tear her clothes off and bury himself in her. She’d have let him, too.

Damn.
Why hadn’t he just gone ahead and done it?

During the last year of their marriage, he’d have given anything for a chance to have her in his arms again. He’d fantasized about making love to her, his own wife, constantly. She’d needed space, but he’d needed
her.

Countless times, he’d imagined her brushing her lips over his. Threading her fingers through his hair and pulling his mouth down to hers. Whispering her most intimate desires in his ear, begging him to make her feel good again.

He’d been desperate to give her pleasure, to fill up the empty places inside her, to kiss the hurt away. She’d never allowed him to.

And now…it wasn’t enough. Indulging in a physical relationship with Daniela, at this point, was a recipe for disaster. He’d never get over her that way. One kiss, and he’d been ready to declare his undying affection and ravage her in the sand.

He was weak where she was concerned, but he wasn’t stupid. Seeing her again had brought back a lot of old memories. Although their marriage hadn’t been perfect, it had been damned good. He’d been crazy about her, and it was hard to let her go. Being thrown together in cramped quarters, it was only natural for him to feel…nostalgic.

He’d loved her so much.

After the accident, when he found out she was going to be okay, he’d been overwhelmed with relief. He remembered sitting by her bedside, getting choked up just looking at her. Hours upon hours had passed, while he’d done nothing but watch her sleep.

The day she’d come home from the hospital, he’d been an emotional wreck. Maybe he’d smothered her with attention, or hovered too much. He’d been so happy she was alive. Every moment he’d spent with her seemed like a gift—one she’d actively rejected.

No matter how many times he tried to reconnect with her, she’d refused to let him in. He’d attempted to engage her in a thousand different ways. She’d remained unapproachable, untouchable, unresponsive. Lost to him.

His love hadn’t been enough for her then. And her body wasn’t enough for him now.

It wasn’t easy to deny her, but it was easier than letting his guard down. Her emotional withdrawal, and their subsequent divorce, had devastated him. He’d rather feel nothing than experience that kind of pain again.

As they came closer to the landing, late afternoon fog rolled in from the Pacific, settling over the island like a shroud. The creepy old Victorian seemed to rise out of the mist. A few hundred yards beyond the shore, smoke curled from the mouth of Skull Rock.

Earlier, he and Jason had discussed their concerns about the ruined engine. Although it seemed far-fetched, they had to consider the possibility that an intruder had set foot on the island. “Promise me you won’t wander off alone again,” he said to Daniela. “It isn’t safe here, considering what happened yesterday.”

Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Jason thinks the engine may have been sabotaged.”

“By whom? The seal-skinner?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “The cage-divers have a Zodiac, and we’ve had some run-ins with them in the past.”

“About chumming?”

“Yeah. I asked them to stop. They told me to piss off.”

She cast him a chiding glance. “I suppose you said a polite goodbye after that.”

Actually, he’d called the crew leader an asshole, when push had come to shove. “I was at least as polite as they were,” he muttered. “Until we find out what went wrong, you shouldn’t wander off alone. Neither should Taryn or Elizabeth.”

“What about you and the other men?”

“We can defend ourselves.”

Her eyes wandered across his torso, and a tiny crease appeared between her brows. Before they got married, he’d given her a couple of lessons in self-defense. Small, feminine and beautiful, she was an ideal target for a predator.

Maybe she was thinking about kneeing him in the groin, one of the moves he’d taught her, because her gaze dropped to the fly of his jeans. Or maybe she was recalling his inappropriate arousal during one of those demonstrations, which had devolved into a playful wrestling match and steamy sex on the floor.

She looked away, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. “Fine,” she said. “I won’t go anywhere alone.”

Her acquiescence wasn’t much of a victory, and he didn’t feel any better for having it. He needed a cold shower and a hot meal, in that order, but he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with those things, either. It was Daniela’s turn to cook. Eating with her used to be a sensual experience. Now, he’d probably choke on his regrets.

He couldn’t wait to get off this miserable island. Being here with her was like descending into a new level of hell.

Before going in, she took him by the hand, surprising him. “I just need to tell you…I was wrong. Everything that happened was my fault. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” Her eyes searched his for a moment, cutting straight to the heart.

He wanted to say she was mistaken, that his inability to console her had been far more detrimental to their relationship, but the words stuck in his throat. While he faltered, trying to pull himself together, she disappeared inside the house.

Several long, arduous moments passed before he was able to follow.

Daniela was tired of crying.

She cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl with more force than was necessary, mixing the ingredients with shaking hands.

There were too many conflicting feelings to sort through, too many confusing thoughts and words and images. No matter what Sean said, she knew he wanted her, and her body throbbed in response to his arousal.

Maybe it was hopeless, and they were destined to be apart. She couldn’t figure it out right now. Instead of trying, she worked her fingers into the tamale dough, squeezing it into submission. Pounding its flat, expressionless face.

“Pretending that’s Sean?”

She looked from the ceramic bowl to Jason’s knowing smile. “Why would I do that?” she asked, blowing the bangs off her forehead.

“Because he deserves it.”

“For what?”

He held her gaze. “Being such a fool as to lose you.”

Daniela frowned, wondering why he was flirting with her when he was clearly interested in another woman. “You have a problem,” she decided, returning her attention to kneading.

“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Elizabeth won’t go for you if your attention wanders easily.”

“That does present a challenge,” he agreed.

“Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Let your eye rove.”

He paused, considering. “I guess I’m looking for something I haven’t found yet. Or maybe I just have a short attention span.” His mouth twisted with dissatisfaction, as if he didn’t like that about himself. “Did Sean’s eye never rove?”

“His eye? Yes.” Like most men, Sean had noticed other women. Before the accident, it hadn’t bothered her. “He might have looked, but he didn’t
linger.
”

“Hmm.”

“You linger.”

“Lingering is much more fun.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Are you going to help me make these tamales, or keep trying to have your wicked way with me?”

“You aren’t even tempted. I must be losing my touch.”

“I don’t think so.”

His gaze darkened. “Now you’re encouraging me.”

“If I did, you’d get bored.”

“I doubt it.”

Daniela smiled, thinking Elizabeth would have some stiff competition if she wasn’t so hung up on Sean. “Have you ever wrapped corn husks?”

“No. We use banana leaves on the islands.”

“Same idea,” she said, placing a small amount of dough in the center of an unwrapped husk, demonstrating the technique. After adding the meat filling, she closed the edges of the husk and tied it up into a neat little package.

Jason watched carefully, mimicking her movements. He was a very quick study.

They continued making tamales together, falling into an easy rhythm. She had no siblings and few close friends, most of whom she’d alienated over the past two years. The only person she communicated with on a regular basis was Mamá, who meant well but failed to provide unconditional support.

When the tamales were finished steaming, she brought them out to the living room, along with a pitcher of juice and a large platter of mixed vegetables and rice. Jason had beer with his meal, but Sean wasn’t drinking. He’d been tense since he came downstairs, watching her put food on the table in quiet contemplation.

“So what’s up with the engine?” Brent asked, taking a seat next to Sean. “Seems kind of weird that the oars were missing.”

“Yes,” Jason said, glancing at Daniela. “It does. I can’t rule out the possibility that it was tampered with.”

Brent’s brows rose. “You think someone came onto the island again?”

“Maybe. We’ve had some static from the guys who run the cage-diving operation. Last season, they tried a new kind of chum, some noxious mixture with blood meal and tuna parts. The whole island reeked like fish ass.”

Taryn wrinkled her nose, as if remembering the smell. “Jason went out to talk to them about it, and the discussion almost came to blows.”

“Bastards,” he said, taking another bite. “They’d rather fight than talk. Sean exchanged some strong words with them the season before, too.”

Brent arched a brow. “Strong words, from Sean?”

“They started it,” he muttered.

“Do you think they hold a grudge?”

“It’s possible.”

“How would they access the island?”

Jason swallowed a mouthful of rice before he spoke. “They have an inflatable boat.”

“The cage-divers come on weekends,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Today’s Friday.”

“Right,” Jason said. “I think we should use the buddy system from now on. Stay in radio contact, and don’t go off alone.”

Elizabeth bristled. “I’m the only ornithologist. It doesn’t make any sense for anyone to hang out with me at the bird blind.”

“I’d be happy to escort you,” Jason said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “For what purpose? I seriously doubt that anyone has been sneaking around on the island.”

“Who do you think sabotaged the engine, if not them?” Brent asked.

Elizabeth pushed aside her plate. Her face was pale and serious. “Maybe you did.”

His jaw went slack. “Why would I do it?”

“For your stupid documentary,” she said in a scathing tone. “You probably skinned the seal to create drama. And you’d sell your soul for some shark attack footage.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed. Elizabeth’s accusation was wild, and insulting—but was it off base?

“No,” Brent said quietly. “I wouldn’t hurt an animal, and I’d never use footage like that in my work. Not for any price. You, of all people, should know that.”

Her mouth thinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“As you wish,” he murmured.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “Spill it.”

“It’s not my story to tell,” Brent said.

Elizabeth leaped to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping across the hardwood floor. “There is no story.”

When she hurried toward the door, Jason caught up with her in three easy strides. “Like hell there isn’t,” he said, grabbing her wrist.

Gasping, she drew back her other arm and slapped him across the face. The sound was like the crack of a whip.

Jason released her arm abruptly. The mark of her hand stood out on his dark cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, horrified. Before he could react to the blow, she spun away from him and ran out the door.

Stunned, Jason touched the side of his face.

“I’ll go after her,” Taryn said, rising.

Daniela stood also. “Me, too.”

“Hang on,” Sean said, striding toward the door. It was pitch black outside. He looked from Jason to Brent, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I don’t give a damn whose story it is. If there’s something we need to know, tell us.”

“Fine,” Brent said, defeated. “It’s not that important. Ancient history, really. Let the girls go.”

Taryn pulled her jacket off the hook and put it on. Daniela rushed to do the same. Sean probably didn’t want them to follow Elizabeth anywhere, but she shouldn’t be alone on the cliffs at night, under any circumstances.

“Take the flashlight,” Sean said, handing it to Daniela. “And be careful.”

She donned her wool cap. “Of course. A bit of girl talk and everything will be fine.”

Although he looked as though he wanted to come along, he didn’t press the issue. Elizabeth would be more comfortable with other women. After one last glance at Sean, Daniela walked out the door, and Taryn pulled it shut behind them.

“Don’t turn on the light yet,” Taryn said, studying the landscape. Most of the fog had cleared and a waning moon was out, barely visible through wispy layers of clouds. “There.” Taryn pointed at the path to the tower.

Elizabeth’s gray windbreaker appeared almost white in the moonlight, an ethereal shape ascending the cliff. “She
would
go that direction,” Daniela muttered. Shouting at her to come back was pointless; their voices would be carried away on the wind. They started walking, turning on the flashlight to illuminate their footsteps.

At night, the pebble-strewn path was twice as dangerous. With painstaking care they made their way up the cliff. Finally, they reached the summit. Elizabeth was standing at the edge of the lighthouse tower, contemplating the pounding surf and jagged cliffs below.